Prime Time (30 page)

‘Do you think so?' I asked, looking doubtfully at my middle. ‘Don't you think it's a bit tight?'

‘No, it looks fine,' said Tanya, already losing interest again. She looked at her watch. ‘We ought to be getting downstairs, so you'd better do your make-up. Put plenty on or you'll look washed out.'

‘I don't think short dresses suit me,' I said anxiously. ‘I think I look better in the black one.'

‘You really didn't – that one is exactly right.'

I looked at her. She stared back, her face challenging. I hesitated. It was ridiculous to feel intimidated by her – she was young enough to be my daughter.

‘Shall we ask Cal?' I said at last.

‘No,' Tanya almost snapped. ‘Well, not now, we need to get started. Get made-up first and dry your hair. Come downstairs like that and we can see what
Cal
–' she enunciated his name with a studied scorn ‘– thinks then.'

I wondered why they so obviously didn't get on. Professional rivalry presumably, though if she was jealous it was her own fault. Cal was evidently so committed to his job and getting the film just right and Tanya didn't seem to give a toss.

I took a deep breath and tried once more. ‘I really think I'd rather wear the black one,' I said, but Tanya was already gathering the rest of the dresses up and heading for the door.

‘You look much better like that,' she said firmly. ‘You're supposed to be partying.'

Partying! I did my make-up but looked neither glamorous or sultry – just rather raddled – and my hair was a disaster. I realised to my horror I'd forgotten to bring my straighteners or the right hair gel, so had to go for a messy just-out-of-bed look that didn't quite come off. I was still tugging at it hopelessly when Tanya rang the room and told me to hurry up.

I teetered down the corridor in my heels and looked at myself in the lift mirror with despair. I could hear my mother's voice:
mutton dressed as lamb
.

The lipstick looked garish in the harsh light and my skin blotchy. My hair, that was supposed to appear wild and shaggy in an edgy kind of way, just looked unbrushed. I determined to go down and tell Cal I wanted to get changed into the other dress and I needed more time to do my hair. Perhaps the hotel would have straighteners. At least Cal cared about how I felt – he wouldn't railroad me like Tanya had done!

He was waiting in the foyer with Matt and Russ. ‘Hey, you look terrific!' He came forward and kissed me, then stood back and surveyed me from head to toe. He sighed appreciatively. ‘Fabulous.'

‘Actually, I'm not really very happy in this dress,' I told him. ‘There was another one – a black one – I felt much more comfortable in. It was more sophisticated, you know, this one feels a bit – well, a bit tarty.'

‘Nothing wrong with that,' put in Russ, behind me. He and Matt guffawed.

‘No really,' I said, rattled. ‘And I can't walk in these shoes and my hair hasn't gone right –' I stopped as, over his shoulder, I saw Tanya give a sort of smirk. I swallowed. ‘I think I look terrible,' I said, suddenly feeling tearful. I stopped again, afraid now I would make a fool of myself and cry.

Cal put an arm round me and led me away from the others. ‘What's really the matter?' He looked at me, his brown eyes full of concern.

‘I just feel very fat in this dress,' I said, biting my lip. ‘I'm sorry I've got really bad PMT and I've had an awful week. It's been the anniversary of my father's death and my friend Charlotte –' My eyes filled with tears and I scrabbled in my handbag for a tissue, feeling a complete idiot.

Cal touched my face gently with one finger and spoke in a low voice. ‘Honestly, babe, you look fantastic. Not fat at all – just really sexy. I'm really sorry you've had a bad time. As soon as we've done this bit, we'll sit down and have a drink and you can tell me all about it. The thing is ' he looked worried ‘ we need to get on and film this speed dating thing right now if we're going to do it, and as I've sweet-talked the organisers and the hotel management into letting us, I feel we should. I said we'd be discreet – get in there and do it quickly and get out again, so it won't take long.' He glanced at his watch in the same way Tanya had done. ‘I'm really sorry but, –' He looked at me appealingly. ‘Are you sure you're OK?'

I dabbed at my eyes and nodded.

‘Look, just do this,' he said. ‘I'll get it wrapped up as soon as I can and then you can go and get changed if you like for the next session, but I, for one, think you look wonderful.'

He trailed a finger across the top of my arm, lowered his voice, and gave me a slow wink. ‘I almost wish I was doing a bit of dating myself …'

Chapter Thirty-four

I gazed at his back as he walked away to the others. He really was flirting with me now – not just being nice. But he was genuinely kind, too – he always went out of his way to make me feel better about myself.

I went to the loo to repair my make-up, having one more go at my hair with the last squidge from an ancient tube of leave-in conditioner I found in the bottom of my handbag and managing to create a couple of spikes, and putting on lots more lipstick.

I still looked a bit grim, I thought, but the lights in ladies' loos were notorious for that – presumably they'd be turned down a lot lower in the speed-dating gathering to give the dodgy-looking a fighting chance. Cal had seemed to genuinely think I looked OK, so perhaps it was just me being hormonal.

The speed-dating affair was held in a large room a bit like a 70s nightclub, with a small dance floor in the middle and a bar running down one side. It was all rather retro with plush red banquettes and black walls with mirrored pillars and a huge metallic disco ball slowly revolving from the ceiling.

Clumps of men and women stood near the bar with glasses in their hands. I noticed a lot of the women had on short, cocktail-type dresses like mine. I also noticed they were a lot younger than me.

‘I feel a prune,' I said to Cal, as Russ and Matt set up the camera and mikes.

He grinned. ‘Have some champagne. I always find it cheers one up.'

I took a glass from the tray proffered and looked around the room. There were stools in twos against the narrow bar that ran around the walls and more pairs of seats dotted about the high round tables surrounding the dance floor.

A young guy in tight black trousers and white shirt handed me a black card like a menu, embossed with silver hearts, and a silver and black pen. ‘Inside are the numbers of each position,' he said briskly. ‘As you move on round, you give a tick against any of the guys you feel you'd like to talk to again later.'

I glanced sideways into one of the mirrors – I didn't look quite so bad in here, but I still felt daft.

‘Just start doing it,' said Cal, ‘and we'll get some general shots of you, then we'll come in close for the conversation in a while.' He grinned and nodded at my glass. ‘Keep knocking it back. You'll be fine.'

I was directed to one of the tables near the dance floor. Number Six was an earnest-looking bloke of about forty with a beard.

‘Is this your first time doing one of these?' he asked. I nodded. He was studying political science as a mature student, he told me, and liked Genesis and “radical theatre”. I told him I was a copywriter and he asked me what I thought about the toxicity of global consumerism. I said it made me want another drink. It was hardly a match made in heaven.

‘Brilliant,' said Cal, grinning some more as I moved on to number 28.

‘He's too young,' I hissed as I tried to climb elegantly onto the bar stool opposite a boy with spots.

‘Just play along with it,' Cal murmured back. ‘It's good to see some variety.'

‘How old are you?' I asked bluntly.

‘Twenty-three,' said the juvenile dubiously, clearly wondering who this old woman was.

‘Can you look a bit more interested, La?' Cal whispered in my ear. I felt a little flicker of pleasure at the special name, but I still frowned.

‘I'm going to look like a paedophile,' I muttered back. ‘I'll be interested in someone older.'

Cal put an arm around my shoulders as everyone moved round again. ‘Lots of younger men really fancy older women,' he said casually. ‘I could see it written all over that guy's face – he'd have jumped at the chance. I don't think you realise how attractive you are …'

He grabbed another drink from a passing girl with a tray and pressed it into my hand. ‘Here, have another one – tell yourself you're fabulous. Never fails with me.' He laughed. ‘champagne makes everything better.'

He was right. By the time I'd had my third glass, I was feeling very much improved. I found I could walk in the heels, after all, and even the dress felt a bit looser now I'd been wearing it a while.

‘I think we've nearly got enough now,' said Cal, after I'd sat through three minutes in the company of a bloke with a twitch and overpowering garlic-breath, ‘but maybe just a couple more. I know it's excruciating for you but –' he gave me a wink. ‘Just pretend.

‘I'll make it up to you later,' he added softly, his hand trailing down my bare arm. I felt a delicious shock go right up my spine and could still feel the glow of his finger tips as I went onto the next table.

Number 17 was quite good-looking and probably about my age. He chatted easily about his job as a software engineer and his recent divorce (there was always something). I leant forward and tried to look fascinated, thinking that if I were doing this for real, he'd be one I might have put a tick against. ‘Oh, and I'm a vegan,' he finished. Perhaps not then.

The last contender I spoke to was the organiser, posing as one of the punters. He was one of these open shirt, hairy chest, too much aftershave, too-tight trousers types – the only thing missing was the medallion.

He gave me the full low-down on his attributes, including the flash penthouse and sports car, and offered plenty of innuendo about his prowess in the sack. He grinned into the camera frequently, evidently thinking that since he was totally irresistible, women all over the country would flock to his speed-dating parties in the hope of tracking him down.

Thoroughly into role now, I pouted and made eyes at him while trying not to snort out loud.

‘Oh my God, save me from any more,' I giggled to Cal, now feeling pleasingly tipsy after my fourth glass of champagne. I fluffed my hair up a bit more in front of one of the mirrors and tugged up my dress – my cleavage now looked in danger of escaping altogether. I didn't look too bad at all now. Though I really needed to eat.

Cal signalled to Matt. ‘Yeah – come on, let's get out of here. OK, it's a wrap.'

He put his hand on my waist and led me out of the room. Hot date Number Six was still sat at his table, introducing himself to a girl in a bright pink T-shirt and jeans, using the same sparkling opener he'd used on me. ‘Is this your first time doing one of these …?'

‘We're nearly done now,' Cal was saying. ‘We just want to get a little bit more of you talking to camera. We may not use it, but just in case …' He led me into another bar. ‘We've done quite a lot of that with the other two subjects and we might need a bit more from you for balance. Is that OK? It won't take long.'

He sat me a table in the corner. As usual I could see people glancing toward us as Matt and Russ set up. Cal had got me yet another glass of champagne. I pulled a face at him. ‘This is going straight to my head – I haven't really eaten today.'

‘We'll have dinner afterwards,' he promised, sitting down opposite me and giving me one of his slow smiles that made my toes tingle.

‘OK. We're just going to talk about how you feel. I'll be asking you questions off screen, but basically it's going to be you talking to camera.' His eyes fixed on mine and he gave me that look again. Something inside me went soft and squidgy. His voice was low and sensual.

‘How do you feel about being in your 40s, now?'

‘Well,' I said. ‘I'm feeling better about it. I know I'm a bit dodgy today – I've got shocking PMT ' I paused to laugh, to show that this didn't mean I was about to start chewing on small children ‘ but generally I have been feeling pretty good. You know, with all the exercise and stuff – the going to the gym, the new haircut. I feel good about having lost some weight.'

I wasn't slurring but I had that sense of my words becoming a bit treacly. Cal didn't seem to notice. He was nodding encouragingly. ‘How did you feel before then?'

‘Well – I was pretty horrified at actually turning 40. You don't really think it will happen to you. I didn't put any of my cards up – I felt really weird all day – and it took me six months to actually say the F word. But I sort of got over that –'

Cal was leaning across the table. He'd taken my hand again. ‘Go on,' he said softly. ‘Can you tell us about your marriage break-up?' His thumb moved gently across my palm. It sent shivers right up my arm.

‘But what really set me back was my husband, Daniel, leaving me for a 28-year-old. Then I really did feel old and unattractive with that sense that life had passed me by. I started to look around me and everyone else was young. And young people seem to do so much more with their lives than we ever did. Though I suppose one still could … I mean, even Daniel, with his younger woman, is getting new trainers and eating tofu –'

I clapped a hand to my mouth. ‘Actually, I don't want to say that – not about Daniel – I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not on TV.' I looked at Cal, agitated. He squeezed my fingers.

‘No problem. We won't use more than a few seconds of this. Probably just the stuff about you feeling good.'

‘I need to stop for a minute, anyway,' said Matt from behind his camera. ‘Bloody desperate for a pee. Be right back.'

‘I'm going to get a beer,' said Russ. ‘You want anything?'

I shook my head.

‘I'll have one too,' said Cal. ‘Where's Tan?'

Russ shrugged. ‘Dunno, mate.'

‘Are you feeling better now?' asked Cal, when they'd all moved away. ‘You said you'd had a difficult week?'

He listened sympathetically while I explained about my father and relived the hoo-hah with my mother that had ended with me in floods of tears.

His own father, he told me, squeezing my hand, had left his mother when he, Cal, was seven and his mother had been very bitter for the rest of his childhood. ‘She can still be quite difficult,' he said with feeling. ‘Needy, clinging. I'm sure you know what I mean.'

He pushed the floppy bit of hair away from his forehead, looking like a young Hugh Grant. ‘And what's happened with Charlotte?'

I gave him a brief recap, not going into any of the personal details as far as Roger was concerned, but explaining the misunderstanding.

‘Wow,' said Cal. ‘Tangled webs. But if you're good friends then she'll get over it, surely?'

‘We'd got a bit strained before that to be honest,' I said sadly. ‘I don't think she really liked the new me. She's not into all that losing weight and exercise stuff.'

‘I told you before,' said Cal. ‘She's envious because you're looking so fabulous. And maybe she's let herself go a bit?'

I shook my head. ‘Oh no, I wouldn't say that – Charlotte's really attractive. I mean, she is bigger than me but she's beautiful and she's very comfortable with herself and she's happily married – well, usually – and that's worth a lot.'

I took a mouthful from the new glass of champagne that had appeared by my side. ‘Charlotte says she quite likes getting older 'cos she doesn't have to try so hard any more –' I giggled. ‘She says she's looking forward to elastic-waisted trousers and no longer having to hold her stomach in.'

‘Yuck,' said Tanya, who seemed to have reappeared behind me.

Cal kept his eyes on mine. ‘But you don't feel like that?'

I shuddered. ‘Oh no, I hate it when I feel fat. I don't like it at all when I catch sight of myself in the mirror and my bum looks big.' I grinned at him. ‘I don't want to look like an elephant.' I put a hand to my mouth again. I was still managing not to slur, but even to myself, I sounded as though I'd been drinking.

‘Is my voice all right?' I said to Cal, who was nodding to Matt who was back behind the camera. ‘Can we stop now?'

‘Your voice is fine,' Cal said smiling at me. ‘And we can stop. We'll go and get something to eat. But just to finish on an uplifting note – what would your advice be to any woman who's in her 40s and feels as though she's getting on and is past being sexy and wearing great clothes and having fun?' He moved back to let Russ bring the big mike closer to me. ‘Maybe you could say something encouraging about being in your prime – remember the programme is going to be called
Prime Time
– and we could perhaps end with you saying that?'

The more I said it, the less convincing I sounded.

‘You're in your prime. This is your prime time …'

‘Just once more,' said Cal.

‘It's prime time – you're in your prime …'

‘And again? What's the best thing about being 40?'

‘This is the time when you're in your prime.'

‘Can you look as though you're thinking about it first?'

A little knot of people had gathered to watch and, once again, I suddenly felt all film star-ish. I rolled my eyes heavenwards as if considering life's mysteries and then faced the camera. ‘You are in your
prime
. This is
prime time.'

Cal clapped his hands. ‘Terrific! I can't believe how you've taken to this.'

For the first time in my life I actually knew what it was like to go past the point of wanting to eat. By the time, we sat down in the restaurant I could quite easily have curled up and gone to sleep, but Cal seemed as energised as ever and was happily scanning the menu, making suggestions for me.

Russ and Matt had disappeared somewhere, Tanya was at the table with us, with a massive face on.

‘Nothing,' she said coldly, when Cal asked her what she wanted.

She sat drinking Coke and texting while I picked at rocket leaves with parmesan and pine nuts and watched Cal devour a chicken Caesar. I wished she'd go and leave us on our own together. I wanted him gazing into my eyes again. I wanted him all to myself …

And when I came back from the loo a bit later, it seemed I might have got my wish. Tanya was standing in the foyer, her coat over her arm, obviously arguing with Cal. He waved to me as I went back into the restaurant.